Titanic Fantasy
by Whispers To Kill
Summary: It was so classic, so beautiful, sinfully romantic, and daringly erotic. It was a guilty pleasure that Emil indulged in, inspired by the act of Jack drawing Rose: Jia Long's artistry of him. He took a breath, summoned a blush and a voice of tentative timidness. "Jia Long; draw me."


The pattern of lighting was hosted by a television screen, and the flickering flashes emitted several different colors into the room; this supplied only a dimly lit highlighting of objects while other parts remained gray and guarded by the shadows. Clothing, magazines, fabrics of style, art papers and their utensils littered the floor; a rumpled bed cast one comforter to the floor along with its sloppy sheets, but left room for a thick blanket to encase two lovers, video games and messy pillows. Cans of Appelsín and the crinkling plastic wrappers of licorice littered a desk; the sweet, sugary contents of each item had been guzzled and devoured. However, distracting as the soiled clothing, sprawled porn sketchbooks and soon-to-be-ant-covered contents of this room were, much more attractive is the business of the two young owners and lovers: Emil and Jia Long.

* * *

Warmth radiated from the Asian boy beside him in a soft, protective, gentle glow. The weight in the arms that snuggled him tight pressed against him in such a way that Jia Long's adoration seemed to seep into his veins; they were familiar, desired, comforting and guarding. The sweatshirt upon the Hong Kongese's boy rumpled in cotton bunches and provided a second warmth that chafed against his fair skin; slow and groggy breath pulsed against his neck with a perfume that promised adoration and tranquility for his mind. A tinge of sweetness was atop Emil's tongue both from all the kisses he'd received from Jia Long and from the candied snacks; his mind was entranced by many ideas that livened him but was also terribly sleepy due to the utter comfort he experienced from the embrace of his lover and harmony of the air.

It was June 17th, the day Iceland announced themselves an official republic (1944) and the day he added another year to his lifespan; a day spent with his boyfriend and a day he desired to make a request - one he had long dreamed of. Pride and humility had previously conquered that he ever asked this of Jia Long, but today as a birthday request Iceland achingly yearned to summon the guts to make his appeal.

_"I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."_

Titanic: a secret only this special Hong Kongese man had managed to uncover, for for all the masculinity Emil attempted to represent and all the hardened snark and modesty he has achieved there still remained an undeniable passion inside of him. And, as is common with the passionate, Iceland had a fascination for a certain type of romance (not openly, of course). Yet beyond the flare, the fire, the loyalty, the thrill, the rebel, the ache and pure glory of Jack and Rose's relationship was something else that captivated Emil. It was guilty pleasure that Emil indulged in, inspired by the act of Jack drawing Rose: Jia Long's artistry of him.

It was so classic, so beautiful, sinfully romantic, and daringly erotic.

_"He does landscape."_

However Jia Long majors in pornography and fashion, and quite to the contrary of Monsieur Monet, it seemed an act the Jia Long himself could also relish. He dwindled upon his sketches of curves and lines, colors and screams, and renaissance sculpting in a form that seemed to worship Aphrodite. As a lover would he be willing to fulfill and also enjoy? To inquire would be an act rather out of character for the normally indignant, modest boy, but it was quite in character for that of a being, and a being who had not been granted exception to sexual desires and a willingness to ask was he. After all, though disguised, Jia Long did spend and awful amount of time attempting to cox Emil into being an open, confident and firer-y lover - why not grant that? He took a breath, summoned a blush and a voice of tentative timidness.

"Jia Long."

"Hm?"

"Draw me."


End file.
